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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896360">Scalpels and Coffee</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass'>RainbowLookingGlass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ADHD, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Canon Typical Description of Overdose, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Graphic Depictions of Anatomy Lab, Graphic Descriptions of Cadavers, M/M, Medical School AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty knew when he was accepted to Samwell University School of Medicine, the leading med school in the Caribbean, that he wanted to be a psychiatrist. He was being given a second chance after a disastrous undergrad experience, and he finally felt ready to actually buckle down and get through med school. But in order to do that, he was going to have to survive anatomy lab, which seemed designed to torture him. And he would have to survive Jack, the surly repeater who seemed to have it out for Bitty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scalpels and Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is a fic that I've been kicking around for a while now, but haven't had time to write until I got put on lockdown during my break from, you guessed it, medical school. All depictions of med school are based on my own experience, though I've changed some things to make it flow better. I wanna kinda make it clear that Caribbean med schools, while they get a bad rap, are as good as US med schools in terms of quality of education. And the people who make it through Caribbean med schools and get a residency in the US or Canada make just as good of physicians as those from US med schools. Anyhow, that's enough of my soapbox. This fic is going to very graphically describe anatomy lab and cadavers! What cadavers look like, what it feels like to cut them, different structures in the cadaver, all of it. If that's not your jam, perhaps skip this one. I'm not squeamish at all and anatomy lab was difficult for me, if you're squeamish then just the descriptions within might be a bit much for you. Proceed with caution! I think that's about it. I plan for this to be about 3 chapters long, around 6k in length. We'll see how that goes (and if I can finish before school starts back up). Thanks for reading, feel free to come say hi at bitsandshits.tumblr.com!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, now please bring up your passports so that we can process them for immigration,” the administrator at the front of the classroom said to the class. Several students started getting up and shuffling up, handing their passports in. Bitty held onto his a little tighter. He couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about giving his passport to anyone else, even though he knew he needed his visa put inside it.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, bro, I’ll bring all ours up,” said a voice to Bitty’s right. One of Bitty’s roommates, who introduced himself simply a Holster – or was it Ransom? – was gathering up all the roommates’ passports. Bitty reluctantly handed his over as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Holster, bro,” said Bitty’s other roommate, who must’ve then been Ransom. Holster disappeared into the crowd for a minute and then reappeared, empty handed, and took his seat. They listened to emergency plans in case of a hurricane, the tech people explaining how to connect to the wifi and access important files, and the housing coordinator explain how to find housing for next semester when they could no longer live in the dorms.</p><p> </p><p>“Now remember, tonight at 5:00 sharp is the white coat ceremony. Be in this room at 4:30. Afterwards you’ll have your meeting with your mentors, and then there’s the welcome back party. We look forward to seeing everyone there!” the administrator dismissed them. Bitty looked at his watch. It was currently 1:30, so he had 3 hours to eat, shower, and get ready for the white coat ceremony. He went through the motions in a daze, nothing feeling quite real. Nothing had really felt quite real since he had moved to the island, if he was being honest. The plane ride, the taxi ride to the dorm, unpacking, finding the grocery store and setting up his internet before his roommates arrived. He had gone through the motions almost numb, hardly believing that he was finally here, starting his education at Samwell University School of Medicine. He had taken a year off after undergrad, getting diagnosed with the ADHD that caused his grades to be so low in college and finding a prescription that made him actually able to focus, and gaining experience working as a scribe in an ER. Seeing the psych patients come in had only strengthened his resolve that he wanted to be a psychiatrist, and thought he’d thought his dreams had been dashed after his disastrous undergrad experience, he was being given a second chance. He could hardly believe it.</p><p> </p><p>The white coat ceremony passed in much the same state of disbelief. Speeches were made be professors and deans that Bitty didn’t know but had a feeling he would come to with time, and then students went up one by one and stated their name, what they had their degree in, and from what school. Bitty, with the last name Bittle, was 5<sup>th</sup> to go up.</p><p>“Hi, y’all. My name is Eric Bittle. I’m from Madison, Georgia, and I have my degree in Psychology and Biological Sciences from UGA. I’m so excited to be here!” he said into the microphone, grinning. His parents weren’t able to make it to the small Caribbean island for the ceremony, unable to get off work for it, and he missed them dearly. He would’ve loved to have them in the crowd that night. One of the professors, whose name Bitty simply couldn’t remember for the life of him, helped him shrug on his white coat, and with that Bitty was officially a medical student. He didn’t pay a lick of attention to any of the other students, aside from his roommates, instead silently thrilling about the fact that it was all real. He was really doing this.</p><p> </p><p>The ceremony was followed up by mediocre food that Bitty ate with his roommates, who he was becoming fast friends with. They talked and laughed for nearly an hour, none of them having any family there. They took a selfie in front of the school sign in their white coats and nice clothes, and then were herded into the classrooms. Bitty went into his assigned room and nervously sat in a random seat, waiting for his mentor. He’d had brief exchanges with his mentor via email, his mentor giving him some materials to study from to get a head start and giving him a list of things to bring with him to the island, but not a whole lot otherwise. Bitty hadn’t asked much, not wanting to bother him, and now he was nervous for meeting the mysterious man face to face. He sat only for a few minutes before a man with long hair pulled up into a bun and the most ridiculous mustache Bitty had ever seen approached him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not Eric Bittle by any chance, are you?” the man asked tentatively. Bitty shot to his feet, holding his hand out.</p><p> </p><p>“I am! Eric Bittle, or you can call me Bitty, all my friends do. Are you Byron, then?” Bitty asked, shaking his mentor’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“That I am, brah, but literally nobody calls me that. I’m pretty sure my colleagues literally only know my real name from presentations. Call me Shitty,” he said, plopping himself down in the seat next to where Bitty was sitting. Bitty sat back down too, having no clue how to respond to that. Shitty, really? But luckily Shitty started talking again before he had a chance. “First of all, I want to formally apologize for being MIA this whole time. I had a fucking crazy ass break, some serious drama, and I was too damn busy dealing with that to be a real mentor to you, and you deserve better than that. So! Real introduction time. The name’s Shitty, I’m a second sem which means this is my first mentoring rodeo, and I’m fucking stoked. I’ll be the wind beneath your wings, the lighthouse to your ship, guiding you to that sweet sweet goal of second semester. Med school is no joke my man, I had many a sleepless night and many a crying jag, but I made it out with all As, and I feel confident I can help you at least make it out in one shot. So, let’s get down to business, shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>Bitty blinked at him in surprise, but then gave him a genuine smile. They spent the better part of an hour talking and planning. Shitty gave him advice on schedules, how to actually study effectively, making friends and study groups, how to dissect in anatomy lab. Shitty also showed him where to find helpful textbooks online and gave him several study resources. It more than made up for the silence over break, and after talking to Shitty, Bitty actually felt like maybe he could do this.</p><p> </p><p>Bitty made his way back to his dorm. There was a welcome back party that his roommates had said they were going to, but Bitty didn’t know how to get to the bar and besides, he was beyond tired after such a big day. Instead he video called his mama for a few minutes, got ready for bed, and passed out the minute his head hit the pillow. He dreamed of textbooks and coffee throughout the night, preparing for the first day of class tomorrow.</p><p>                                                                                     </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Okay, the first thing you’re going to do is open your boxes. Then you will lift your cadaver, inside the plastic bag, onto your table. You will cut open the plastic, and slide it out from under your cadaver, and throw the plastic away in these trashcans. Then you will spray the cadavers with this spray, and then wet these towels and completely cover your cadavers. Understood? You may begin,” explained a professor at the front of the room. It was the first day of anatomy lab, and they had already had a tour of the lab and been shown all the different pieces of equipment and how to take care of and store it. There were 8 stainless steel operating tables, with a hole in each near what Bitty assumed was where the head would go, that had a rubber tube attached to it that lead to a bucket. Next to each table was a large cardboard box that looked vaguely like a coffin. Bitty tried not to think too hard about why that was.</p><p> </p><p>If Bitty was being honest, he didn’t want to be here. You couldn’t pay him enough to perform surgery. Hell, he didn’t even want to perform procedures. He had considered ER, before deciding that he just wasn’t interested in cutting or puncturing the human body. He wanted to sit behind a desk and listen to people’s problems and help them that way. This just wasn’t even close to his wheelhouse.</p><p> </p><p>But he had no choice. The only way through first semester was through this course.</p><p> </p><p>A large, dark haired man with what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face and piercing blue eyes leaned over the cardboard box. He quickly opened it, and what Bitty saw made his heart sink. Through a plastic bag Bitty could see an old, old man. His skin was wrinkled and grey, and his face was set in what appeared to be a scream. Most of his features were obscured, though it was clear he was completely naked and his limbs were arranged at unnatural angles. Bitty was not squeamish, not in the least. He’d seen his fair share of blood and injuries playing sports in high school and college and it had never once bothered him. But this was different. This was heart wrenching. And Bitty had to try to deal with the fact that they were going to slice this poor man up like a pig for slaughter. It was almost enough to make Bitty feel sick.</p><p> </p><p>But he swallowed this down. If he was going to survive this course, he had to get a hold of himself and stuff these feelings down. He moved to help lift the cadaver onto the table, lifting at the feet. Once he was on the table, the blue eyed student brandished a pair of scissors, cutting open the bag. The smell hit Bitty at once. A horrifying mixture of formaldehyde and death washed over them. One student gagged. Bitty managed not to, but he understood the urge. The blue eyed student rolled his eyes and barked at the others to help him roll the cadaver to get the plastic out from underneath. Once again Bitty moved to help. The cadaver was strangely firm, and felt slippery or slimy beneath Bitty’s gloves. Bitty had never been more grateful for the invention of the nitrile glove in his life. Together with the rest of his group, they got the plastic out from underneath, threw it away, and emptied the bucket. A professor came over to survey their work.</p><p> </p><p>“Very good, group, very good. What do you say, Jack, what are you naming this one? Going with Stanley like last semester?” The professor joked, nudging the blue eyed student with his elbow. The student – Jack – didn’t crack a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps. I’ll be group leader this semester,” Jack told him. Bitty frowned a bit. They hadn’t discussed group leader, and Bitty was going to offer to do it. But the professor nodded, wrote something down, and went on his way. Jack turned to the group. “We’re done for the day. Make sure you get here on time tomorrow. We’re going to want to get started as quickly as possible, the first dissection is time consuming. If any of you are dying to dissect first, let me know. But I want everyone to dissect, to get a feel for the instruments and how to cut. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Everyone nodded and murmured their thanks as they disbanded.</p><p> </p><p>Bitty thought about Jack while he changed out of his scrubs and into his street clothes. Jack was clearly repeating the semester, based on his knowledge and the professor’s comments. Bitty had known that was a possibility, but he hadn’t realized that it actually happened to people. He wondered how many repeaters there were in this semester. Bitty felt like repeating a semester was a nightmare, especially first semester when you had to work with the cadavers. No wonder Jack seemed so grumpy. Bitty vowed to himself to do whatever it took to survive this semester. The less he had to deal with anatomy lab, the better.</p>
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